Rise of a Rebellion
by nicole813711
Summary: Katniss Everdeen never made it out of the 74th Hunger Games. The rebellion never had a chance to really start. As a result, it is now the 100th Hunger Games. And this year, there shall be a special twist. Zira Lucas will be one of four tributes from District 5. Join her on her journey as she becomes yet another symbol of Rebellion. SYOT
1. Prologue

The wind beat down on the apartment building in the slums of the district. The small section of the district was inhabited by the poorest of the district, a rarity but an occurrence nonetheless in the wealthy district. It was raining that night, as it always seems to be when bad news comes down the pipe. It always seems to be raining when dark and insidious agendas begin to unfold, making their appearance, and waiting to ruin lives. It was on that night that a teenaged girl sat in front of the TV, her younger brother snuggled up under her arm.

It was the night of the Presidential address in regards to the Hunger Games. This year would be the 100th Hunger Games- a Quarter Quell. And on such Quarter Quells, the president would draw from a secure box, one slip of paper. On that slip of paper would be a sort of twist for the games, written prior to the beginning of the games, and locked away in the box. Tonight would be the night that President Stone, the successor of President Snow, would draw the theme of the Quell. Tonight he would announce the rule that was sure to change at least 24 tributes lives next week when the tributes were selected.

The girl, Zira Lucas, sat on the couch with her younger brother. She was 17, almost on her way out of the 12-18 age range for tributes. They sat in silence, watching the screen as the president appeared on the screen. Across the whole of Panem, the districts waited with bated breath to see what twist would occur this year. The others had been rather harsh, and they were sure that this year, being the 100th anniversary, would be even more so.

For the 25th Hunger Games, the first Quarter Quell, the districts were forced to vote for tributes sent into the arena. That year had been the worst in Zira's opinion, whose grandfather's brother had been a tribute and had, in fact, won. However, he had been so distraught that he had committed suicide only a handful of years later. The 50th wasn't much better considering that twice the normal amount of tributes were chosen. Instead of the typical 24, two for each district, 48 children had died. That year had also been quite unusual considering an outlier district had won.

District 12 had won with their 16 year old Haymitch Abernathy, finally gaining a victor. District 12 had the lowest number of the victors, with Haymitch Abernathy being their only one. They were followed by districts 11, 10, and 5. District 5 didn't have the lowest number of victors, but it most certainly was in the bottom quarter. At least they had 5 victors, which was far more than district 12 could boast. They had almost gained a victor in the 74th Hunger Games with Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire. Sadly, she was killed off in the final three by a ruthless career. His name had been Cato, whose fame was short lived. The next year had seen his death in which the tributes were reaped from the existing pool of victors. As 12 only had one victor, a teenage female had been selected from the population to accompany him into the games. That year had seen the victory of, perhaps, the most successful victor ever: Haymitch Abernathy. Not only had he been the sole representation of District 12 since his Quarter Quell, but he had proceeded to re-enter the games, at the age of 41, and win a second Quarter Quell.

Now, the citizens of Panem waited with bated breath as the president opened the box, withdrawing a single envelope. The envelope was opened and the president began to read the card aloud to the country.

"_On the one-hundredth anniversary, a__s a reminder of the cruelty and brutality of the Rebel army. As a reminder of the two Capitol soldiers lost to every Rebel soldier, each district shall give up twice the standard amount of tributes..._" the president spoke. The president paused a few seconds before continuing. In the span of those two seconds, the citizens were plagued with confusion, waiting for the president to continue. Haymitch Abernathy, in particular was struck with this information, sitting forward in his drunken stupor. All of Panem knew that the 50th Hunger Games had seen the same thing. So what exactly was the Capitol playing at?

**A/N: So, this story is AU since Katniss died. A rebellion never took place and, as a result, it is time for the 100th Hunger Games. Zira Lucas is my own OC. This story is a SYOT story. I shall update my bio with information on how to send your own tribute, and the list of current tributes. Review and let me know what you think of the _concept_ for the 100th Hunger Games. Any suggestions, please include them in a review or PM me. Thank you!**

**Edit: My Bio has been updated with the information. Feel free to send in tributes!**


	2. Zira Lucas

My name is Zira Lucas. I'm 17 years old and I live in District 5. I'm well-known in my district, but not for the right reasons. I'm not exactly popular, considering I come from the slums in the District. Though a district of great wealth, there are still poor families, and mine just happens to be one of them. As such, I am often bullied by my classmates, and judged by the other adults of the districts. It surprised me, how judgmental people can be, considering that I don't look like "trash". I'm average, neither particularly attractive, but not ugly either. I have long, straight brown hair with beautiful emerald eyes. Both traits I inherited from my long since deceased mother.

My mother, Charlotte Lucas nee Banks, died 8 years ago, when I was 9 years old. My mother had been a beautiful women. She had followed her heart, marrying my father, Neil Lucas, despite his dismal social standing. She had been the daughter of the mayor, a citizen of much higher standing. As such, she was kind and caring. She never judged people by their appearances, but instead by their heart and character.

She was 35 when she died, quite young for the standard of District 5. However, it wasn't of natural causes. She had been assaulted and murdered in the city streets of the slums. Without any choice, she was forced to leave me, my brother, and father to defend for ourselves. My brother Mickey, had the time, had only been 2, still a baby.

My father was and still is a security guard at one of the local power plants. He lacked education and, as such, he didn't make very much of a salary. My mother made a decent salary as a healer. She was a damned good one too, a skill that I also had inherited. But, without her, the family had fallen to pieces. We no longer had my mother and my father fell apart. I can only suspect that he blamed himself to a certain extent, considering that he brought her into the dangerous life of living in the slums. As such, he turned to alcohol as a pain reliever.

My father was once a good man. Once, his baby blue eyes would shine, glowing with love. His black hair was shiny and short. Since my mother's death, however, his eyes had lone grown cold. His hair had grown long and filthy, stubble littering his face. Still a security guard and in good shape, his face had long grown into a permanent frown. None of his old happy demeanor remained, and most certainly no hint of the handsome smile that had drawn in my mother in the first place.

Since my mother's death, a lot of the burden had fallen onto me to keep the family afloat. For the first few years, it was difficult considering I couldn't do much in the way of getting a job and helping. My father had turned fully to alcohol and was drunk most nights. As a result, his once kind and caring nature soon grew cold, his temperament becoming explosive. He quickly fell into an abusive pattern, hitting me whenever I made a mistake. If dinner was late, _smack_. If dinner was burnt, _smack. _If Mickey wasn't down for his nap, _smack_. If the house wasn't clean, _smack_. I'm sure you get the idea.

For those first few years, I cared for my brother and took care of the house. Soon, Mickey had been calling me "mommy", which I corrected with a heavy heart. It wasn't until I was 12 that I could finally make a difference. It wasn't until then that I could really help.

Living in the city, there wasn't much an under 12 year old could do to help the family. However, that year was my first entry into the Hunger Games. With luck, I was able to sign up for tesserae for myself, my brother, and unfortunately my father. At the time, I was not brave enough to defy him. Hardened as I was from living in the slums, I was still too fearful to defy him. I had trained myself to fight off robbers, murderers, and other assorted criminals, but I was still a shy little girl too scared to disobey her father for fear of him beating her. And so, I had my name entered four times the first year, a rarity for someone from District 5. Nonetheless, it did and still does happen.

That same year, I was able to start working for a healer within the slums. Mrs. Pullberry was a famous healer in the district slums. She had gained quite a bit of experience, considering the sheer amount of business she saw working in the slums. She had been the woman my mother had worked for. I believe it is part of the reason I gained my first paid internship with her.

I had been on my way home from school one day, walking with a few friends, when I had spotted a man lying in the street. I told my friends to get Mrs. Pullberry, the nearest healer, and I quickly set to work on the man. Using any and all skills I could remember my mother telling me, I checked the man, quickly locating a stab wound, before setting to work on stopping the bleeding. By the time Mrs. Pullberry arrived, I had kept the man alive and had stopped the bleeding. She had been so impressed with my work that she offered me a paid internship with her. This allowed me to contribute to the family, relieving some of my father's unrelenting anger, though I continued to make sure Mickey would never be subject to it.

As I grew older, the bullying continued on, relentless. However, I have three great friends that backed me and supported me. Their names are Rocko Bradley, Eliza Dubov, and Ivan Dubov. Eliza and Ivan are brother and sister, Ivan being my age, and Eliza being two years younger. As children, they were abandoned by their parents and left at the orphanage. Both are street hardened from the fact, Eliza being especially resentful. As a result, she refuses to respond to Dubov. She insists that everyone calls her Eliza Drago. Ivan, on the other hand, is a little less resentful and, though he dislikes his biological parents, does not object to his surname. Both are like siblings to me, Eliza like a younger sibling.

Rocko Bradley, on the other hand, is my best friend. As children, we grew up near each other, drawn to each other from the start. As a result, we've grown really close. Rocko is perhaps the closest person to me. Besides Mick, he is the only other person I actually consider family. He's far closer to me than Eliza and Ivan, though they are no doubt good friends. I would do anything for my friends, especially Rocko. My loyalty is so great that many aren't sure whether it's a strength or character flaw- myself included. Rocko is a few months older than me, 18 now, and he stands at 6'3", presenting quite an imposing figure. He's not the thin and wiry type either. No, Rocko is a big, lovable lug. He has broad shoulders and the build of a bodybuilder. Though he's not the most intelligent, and prefers using his fists to words, he's still the best friend anyone could have.

See, Rocko and I aren't the same person, as most friends are. I am intelligent and I do well in school, particularly physics. My teachers often call me the prodigy of the district as they haven't seen a natural with the subject since my teacher himself. As a result, I generally try to help Rocko pass through his studies so he doesn't fail out, like my father. And Rocko isn't dumb either. He's actually a pretty quick learner. He just doesn't always get it. As a result, we'll often end up wrestling rather than studying. Not that I particularly mind, considering he's a good sparring partner.

Living in the slums has made it important and a necessity to be able to defend yourself. As a result, Rocko and I will constantly pounce on each other, practicing our skills and making sure we're always vigilante. However, between our jobs, mine at Mrs. Pullberry's, and his at the factory, we don't have much time to hang out during the week. It doesn't keep up from being the best of friends.

School is truly the only place I feel I am able to excel. Though the verbal abuse is constant from the other students, the teachers aren't as mean or judgmental. True enough, they peg me to be the troublemaker, but they soon discover that I'm quite the opposite. Though I can defend myself rather well, I often am sly enough to avoid physical altercations, choosing to reduce my opponents to a blubbering mess simply with my words. The teachers also respect my intelligence, especially my physics teacher.

Brutus Steele, the great physics prodigy of the district, only age 35, and younger brother to victor Richard Steele of the 79th Hunger Games. He's well known in the district, and he often boasts of how his knowledge is only rivaled by me. As much as I adore the subject of physics and as good as I am at the subject, there isn't any room in the district for a scholar. The teachers aren't at retirement age and, as such, there's no need for others. This, sadly gives me no choice but a more "practical" job in the district, such as one of the maintenance workers in the plants.

Mr. Steele was, and still is, my favorite teacher. Unlike the others, he never judged me right off the bat. In fact, he often claimed he had seen some of himself in me with my spitfire personality. He too had a very similar build to Rocko, bulky and intimidating. Similar to Rocko, he had a easy going nature, gentle and kind. As such, he quickly became one of the only people in the school I was comfortable with talking to. He in turn would catch the bullies in their tracks, giving them detention, which often consisted of a few lashings. Of course, he soon became one of the few I trusted. I wouldn't deem as trustworthy as Rocko, but definitely somewhere between Rocko and the Dubovs.

It was yet another power play of the Capitol. They were the ever present warden, dictating our lives from start to finish. I resented them for it and sympathized with many of the other districts and those living in the slums. Whereas most of my district praised the greatness and generosity of the Capitol, I detested it and the president. I was waiting for the day a rebellion would take place. The day we would be free to do as we please and go between districts. I waited for the day I could do what I wanted, like teach, and be who I wanted.

Rocko, Ivan, and Eliza sympathized with me. However, unlike me, they were much more vocal about it. Each had gotten a few lashes at school for their "rebellious" nature. I was often the one quelling their anger, convincing them that it wasn't the time to act. After all, fire would never catch if only a few students rebelled. As such, I knew better than to be vocal about my dislike for the Capitol. I never dreamed to disobeying and revolting against the Capitol. I never dreamed of showing them up and practically giving them the finger. That all changed on that fateful day. The day I was faced with the horrible, daunting truth: I would be going into the 100th Hunger Games. I would fight against other members of my district, one of them being Rocko, and the other being Brutus Steele, my teacher. For this year, four of us were going into the games: two teens, and two adults.

**A/N**: **So this is the first chapter. It's more an overview of Zira, who she is, and her history. The next chapter will take place on the day of the reaping. I'll update that chapter when I have time. This story will be first person POV and, as a result, the other tributes won't really come into play until she's watching the recap of the reapings. If I don't have another tribute for district 5 by the time I'm ready to update, I'll create another tribute to throw in there. **

**Don't forget, on my bio is the form for the tributes. Please send in tributes! I don't particularly fancy making up all 48 tributes on my own, plus all additional characters such as mentors, stylists, and escorts! xD**

**Thank you! Don't forget to review and let me know what you think!**


	3. Reaping Day (Part I)

My name is Zira Lucas. I'm 17 years old and I live in District 5. I'm well-known in my district, but not for the right reasons. I'm not exactly popular, considering I come from the slums in the District. Though a district of great wealth, there are still poor families, and mine just happens to be one of them. As such, I am often bullied by my classmates, and judged by the other adults of the districts. It surprised me, how judgmental people can be, considering that I don't look like "trash". I'm average, neither particularly attractive, but not ugly either. I have long, straight brown hair with beautiful emerald eyes. Both traits I inherited from my long since deceased mother.

My mother, Charlotte Lucas nee Banks, died 8 years ago, when I was 9 years old. My mother had been a beautiful women. She had followed her heart, marrying my father, Neil Lucas, despite his dismal social standing. She had been the daughter of the mayor, a citizen of much higher standing. As such, she was kind and caring. She never judged people by their appearances, but instead by their heart and character.

She was 35 when she died, quite young for the standard of District 5. However, it wasn't of natural causes. She had been assaulted and murdered in the city streets of the slums. Without any choice, she was forced to leave me, my brother, and father to defend for ourselves. My brother Mickey, had the time, had only been 2, still a baby.

My father was and still is a security guard at one of the local power plants. He lacked education and, as such, he didn't make very much of a salary. My mother made a decent salary as a healer. She was a damned good one too, a skill that I also had inherited. But, without her, the family had fallen to pieces. We no longer had my mother and my father fell apart. I can only suspect that he blamed himself to a certain extent, considering that he brought her into the dangerous life of living in the slums. As such, he turned to alcohol as a pain reliever.

My father was once a good man. Once, his baby blue eyes would shine, glowing with love. His black hair was shiny and short. Since my mother's death, however, his eyes had lone grown cold. His hair had grown long and filthy, stubble littering his face. Still a security guard and in good shape, his face had long grown into a permanent frown. None of his old happy demeanor remained, and most certainly no hint of the handsome smile that had drawn in my mother in the first place.

Since my mother's death, a lot of the burden had fallen onto me to keep the family afloat. For the first few years, it was difficult considering I couldn't do much in the way of getting a job and helping. My father had turned fully to alcohol and was drunk most nights. As a result, his once kind and caring nature soon grew cold, his temperament becoming explosive. He quickly fell into an abusive pattern, hitting me whenever I made a mistake. If dinner was late, _smack_. If dinner was burnt, _smack. _If Mickey wasn't down for his nap, _smack_. If the house wasn't clean, _smack_. I'm sure you get the idea.

For those first few years, I cared for my brother and took care of the house. Soon, Mickey had been calling me "mommy", which I corrected with a heavy heart. It wasn't until I was 12 that I could finally make a difference. It wasn't until then that I could really help.

Living in the city, there wasn't much an under 12 year old could do to help the family. However, that year was my first entry into the Hunger Games. With luck, I was able to sign up for tesserae for myself, my brother, and unfortunately my father. At the time, I was not brave enough to defy him. Hardened as I was from living in the slums, I was still too fearful to defy him. I had trained myself to fight off robbers, murderers, and other assorted criminals, but I was still a shy little girl too scared to disobey her father for fear of him beating her. And so, I had my name entered four times the first year, a rarity for someone from District 5. Nonetheless, it did and still does happen.

That same year, I was able to start working for a healer within the slums. Mrs. Pullberry was a famous healer in the district slums. She had gained quite a bit of experience, considering the sheer amount of business she saw working in the slums. She had been the woman my mother had worked for. I believe it is part of the reason I gained my first paid internship with her.

I had been on my way home from school one day, walking with a few friends, when I had spotted a man lying in the street. I told my friends to get Mrs. Pullberry, the nearest healer, and I quickly set to work on the man. Using any and all skills I could remember my mother telling me, I checked the man, quickly locating a stab wound, before setting to work on stopping the bleeding. By the time Mrs. Pullberry arrived, I had kept the man alive and had stopped the bleeding. She had been so impressed with my work that she offered me a paid internship with her. This allowed me to contribute to the family, relieving some of my father's unrelenting anger, though I continued to make sure Mickey would never be subject to it.

As I grew older, the bullying continued on, relentless. However, I have three great friends that backed me and supported me. Their names are Rocko Bradley, Eliza Dubov, and Ivan Dubov. Eliza and Ivan are brother and sister, Ivan being my age, and Eliza being two years younger. As children, they were abandoned by their parents and left at the orphanage. Both are street hardened from the fact, Eliza being especially resentful. As a result, she refuses to respond to Dubov. She insists that everyone calls her Eliza Drago. Ivan, on the other hand, is a little less resentful and, though he dislikes his biological parents, does not object to his surname. Both are like siblings to me, Eliza like a younger sibling.

Rocko Bradley, on the other hand, is my best friend. As children, we grew up near each other, drawn to each other from the start. As a result, we've grown really close. Rocko is perhaps the closest person to me. Besides Mick, he is the only other person I actually consider family. He's far closer to me than Eliza and Ivan, though they are no doubt good friends. I would do anything for my friends, especially Rocko. My loyalty is so great that many aren't sure whether it's a strength or character flaw- myself included. Rocko is a few months older than me, 18 now, and he stands at 6'3", presenting quite an imposing figure. He's not the thin and wiry type either. No, Rocko is a big, lovable lug. He has broad shoulders and the build of a bodybuilder. Though he's not the most intelligent, and prefers using his fists to words, he's still the best friend anyone could have.

See, Rocko and I aren't the same person, as most friends are. I am intelligent and I do well in school, particularly physics. My teachers often call me the prodigy of the district as they haven't seen a natural with the subject since my teacher himself. As a result, I generally try to help Rocko pass through his studies so he doesn't fail out, like my father. And Rocko isn't dumb either. He's actually a pretty quick learner. He just doesn't always get it. As a result, we'll often end up wrestling rather than studying. Not that I particularly mind, considering he's a good sparring partner.

Living in the slums has made it important and a necessity to be able to defend yourself. As a result, Rocko and I will constantly pounce on each other, practicing our skills and making sure we're always vigilante. However, between our jobs, mine at Mrs. Pullberry's, and his at the factory, we don't have much time to hang out during the week. It doesn't keep up from being the best of friends.

School is truly the only place I feel I am able to excel. Though the verbal abuse is constant from the other students, the teachers aren't as mean or judgmental. True enough, they peg me to be the troublemaker, but they soon discover that I'm quite the opposite. Though I can defend myself rather well, I often am sly enough to avoid physical altercations, choosing to reduce my opponents to a blubbering mess simply with my words. The teachers also respect my intelligence, especially my physics teacher.

Brutus Steele, the great physics prodigy of the district, only age 35, and younger brother to victor Richard Steele of the 79th Hunger Games. He's well known in the district, and he often boasts of how his knowledge is only rivaled by me. As much as I adore the subject of physics and as good as I am at the subject, there isn't any room in the district for a scholar. The teachers aren't at retirement age and, as such, there's no need for others. This, sadly gives me no choice but a more "practical" job in the district, such as one of the maintenance workers in the plants.

Mr. Steele was, and still is, my favorite teacher. Unlike the others, he never judged me right off the bat. In fact, he often claimed he had seen some of himself in me with my spitfire personality. He too had a very similar build to Rocko, bulky and intimidating. Similar to Rocko, he had a easy going nature, gentle and kind. As such, he quickly became one of the only people in the school I was comfortable with talking to. He in turn would catch the bullies in their tracks, giving them detention, which often consisted of a few lashings. Of course, he soon became one of the few I trusted. I wouldn't deem as trustworthy as Rocko, but definitely somewhere between Rocko and the Dubovs.

It was yet another power play of the Capitol. They were the ever present warden, dictating our lives from start to finish. I resented them for it and sympathized with many of the other districts and those living in the slums. Whereas most of my district praised the greatness and generosity of the Capitol, I detested it and the president. I was waiting for the day a rebellion would take place. The day we would be free to do as we please and go between districts. I waited for the day I could do what I wanted, like teach, and be who I wanted.

Rocko, Ivan, and Eliza sympathized with me. However, unlike me, they were much more vocal about it. Each had gotten a few lashes at school for their "rebellious" nature. I was often the one quelling their anger, convincing them that it wasn't the time to act. After all, fire would never catch if only a few students rebelled. As such, I knew better than to be vocal about my dislike for the Capitol. I never dreamed to disobeying and revolting against the Capitol. I never dreamed of showing them up and practically giving them the finger. That all changed on that fateful day. The day I was faced with the horrible, daunting truth: I would be going into the 100th Hunger Games. I would fight against other members of my district, one of them being Rocko, and the other being Brutus Steele, my teacher. For this year, four of us were going into the games: two teens, and two adults.

**A/N**: **So this is the first chapter. It's more an overview of Zira, who she is, and her history. The next chapter will take place on the day of the reaping. I'll update that chapter when I have time. This story will be first person POV and, as a result, the other tributes won't really come into play until she's watching the recap of the reapings. If I don't have another tribute for district 5 by the time I'm ready to update, I'll create another tribute to throw in there. **

**Don't forget, on my bio is the form for the tributes. Please send in tributes! I don't particularly fancy making up all 48 tributes on my own, plus all additional characters such as mentors, stylists, and escorts! xD**

**Thank you! Don't forget to review and let me know what you think!**


	4. Reaping Day (Part II)

"There you guys are." Rocko and I looked up to see Ivan and Eliza grinning, dressed in their reaping attire. "It's nearly 11! You guys have to go get ready in order to be to the square in time," Ivan told us while I gasped. It was almost 11! I still had to get myself and Mickey ready!

Rocko and I quickly took our gloves off, flinging them to side. We placed the boards back in front of the windows before rushing to the office and hopping out the window. Splitting up from Ivan and Eliza after thanking them for finding us, we sprinted back to my house. We broke apart then, and I watched as Rocko sprinted down the block before turning and walking into the house.

"Zi!" I heard a shout and spun around just in time to catch Mickey as he flung himself into my arms. I gave him a quick once over. He was wet and so I sniffed his hair before giving a nod of approval to show he did a great job on his shower. "I took my shower but I couldn't find my clothes." With an eye roll, I walked him back into my bedroom, pointing out the clothing I had laid out the night before.

Letting him get dressed, I grabbed my own clothing and made my way into the bathroom to grab my wash things. I stopped, noticing that my father wasn't there and that the bathroom was clean. Confused, I turned around to see my father, for once sober, and dressed nicely. We simply looked at each other and I realized what was going through his head. He knew there was a chance he was going into the arena. He knew there was a chance I was going into the arena. And I think he finally accepted the fact that, either way, someone if not both of them, was coming home that night having to take care of little Mick.

I nodded to him before moving on to take my shower. I took a quick but thorough one, making sure to erase all traces of my earlier escapades in the gym. With that, I quickly dressed in my flowing emerald dress that I had received from my mother. It was her special one, the one she wore on her last reaping. While it wasn't my last reaping, I knew I would need more luck for this one, and so I decided to wear it.

I quickly plaited my hair into a braid, shorter than most considering the fact that my hair wasn't quite so long. I quickly washed my face and teeth once more before exiting the room and ordering Mickey to do so. I looked at the clock, seeing that it read almost 11:30, as I moved into my room, pulling on my silver flats that I had also received from my mother. Within ten minutes, all three of us were ready and making our way down to the square. While walking, I heard a few shouts behind me and, looking, I saw Rocko, Ivan, and Eliza running to catch up with us.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Eliza called, walking next to us as she affected a poor Capitol accent.

"And may the odds-" Ivan continued with the same poorly affected Capitol accent.

"-be ever in your favor," Rocko and I finish together, laughing. Spirits slightly raised, knowing that we had each other, we quickly filed onto line, all of us signing in. I let them prick my finger, placing it on the sheet next to my name. I then proceeded to file into my age group, pointing Mickey in the direction of a roped in section for children too young to be potential tributes.

I watched as Eliza joined the section two rows in front of me, Ivan and Rocko making their way over to the section for the boys and men. With a sigh, I turned my attention to the stage, waiting for the _show_ to start. We wait for nearly an hour as the entire population begins to filter into the tiny square. I roll my eyes in boredom, cracking my knuckles, as I catch Rocko's eye. He shrugs, rolling his eyes as if to say '_what can ya do about it'_. Knowing he's right, I return my attention to the stage as the mayor stands to speak.

He begins his normal rubbish about Panem and how the Hunger Games came to be. Having known the story by heart, I ignore the speech, considering it's the same one every single year. In all these years of the Hunger Games tradition, the only things that have possibly changed on that cue card are the Game number, and possibly the escort name. He then proceeds to name the past victors, each of them standing as they take the stage. None of them are particularly extraordinary, except for perhaps Richard Steele.

He had been a surprise victor in the games. He had had a difficult year. All the tributes from the career districts were older and stronger. He himself had a thin, wiry frame, and he wasn't much the physical type. As a result, everyone had thought he would lose. At least, that's what I'm told considering his game was a few years before I was born. However, he had risen from the ashes, waiting out the other tributes. Then the careers, forgetting about him, had started to kill each other. And in a fiery ending, he had set fire to the forest, luring out the final tribute, before choking him to death in his weakened state. It had been a surprise, indeed, to see the underdog win.

At that moment, however, the mayor introduces the District 5 escort. Her name is Venus Petros, an exotic woman from the Capitol. She could have once been beautiful but, in my opinion, lost all by following the Capitol fad. She had deep blue skin, with silky, long, jet black hair. Her eyes were rimmed with golden eyeliner, her nails covered with golden polish. All of this surrounding her golden eyes which, in my opinion, did nothing to accentuate them. I doubt gold was even her real eye color. Knowing the Capitol, she probably had contacts or had them changed through some long surgical process that I have yet to understand or even hear of.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" She calls to the crowd as she stands at the podium, speaking. I roll my eyes at this, shaking my head. It had been a favorite quote ever since the 74th Hunger Games when the girl on fire, Katniss Everdeen, from district 12 had almost won. Since then, all the escorts used the dreadfully horrific line. With that, she moved over to the bowl holding all the names of the girls in our district. The bowl, one of four today, was full of names. I continued to stare at them, silently, thinking to myself. Whereas most girls my age have six slips in, I had more. I had 24 slips in. Rocko, only having to worry about himself and his father, was lucky. He only had his slip in 14 times.

"And for the ladies…" Venus said, plunging her arm into the bowl. She fished around before pulling a single slip out. She carefully unfolded it, looking at the slip. With a smile, she read, "Eliza Dubov." I sighed in relief, ready to laugh that it wasn't me. I hadn't processed what name was spoken, but I only knew it wasn't my own.

That was when I heard the heart-wrenching scream. Turning, I saw Ivan trying to fight through the crowd. It then processed that Eliza's name was called. My head swung back to look at Eliza, who looked shocked and in pain as she slowly started to make her way to the stage. I could see Ivan fighting to get the front, to stop her, but Rocko held him back, whispering in his ear. I felt horrible and I immediately knew what I wanted to do and should in fact do. I should volunteer.

Eliza was all Ivan had left. Ivan would not survive and he would not make it without Eliza. He needed her. But, I couldn't volunteer. I had Mickey to think about. _Mickey_. My eyes darted to him as he tried to yell at Eliza to not go. He didn't know her too well but he knew I cared for her. I watched as she mounted the stage, my head swiveling around to look each and every way. I spun around to look through the crowd, searching for Ivan and Rocko once more when I found my father instead. He was staring at me. Just at me. He wasn't even looking at Eliza.

It was perhaps that moment that I realized a small, tiny part of him still cared. He knew how I felt and he knew how guilty I would be if I didn't do anything at all. With the tiniest nod ever, he told me everything I needed to know. He promised to care for Mickey, and he understood why I felt I must do it. I gave him a withering look, as if to threaten him if he dare treat Mickey other than the best, before I swung back around.

"Any volunteers?" Venus asked, knowing there would be none. I looked to Eliza and she shook her head. She knew what I was about to do.

"I volunteer!" I cried as I moved into the aisle. "I, Zira Lucas, volunteer as tribute!" I called again as I moved to the stage. Rocko looked faintly shocked, but not very surprised as he continued to hold Ivan back, who was now yelling at me for being an idiot. I heard Mickey's heart breaking wails, which I ignored as I moved to the stage. A set of peacemakers, grabbed Eliza's arms, roughly pulling her off, and a pair grabbed me to push me off. I pushed them away, pushing them off of Eliza as they pulled me towards the stage.

"Zira! Zira, no! Why!" I heard Eliza screaming, trying to get to me. I shook my head before spinning about and climbing onto the stage. I silently moved next to Venus, shaking her head as she giggled. I kept my gaze straight ahead, ignored Mickey's wails as Eliza pulled him away, trying to call him down.

"Very exciting indeed! Now, we shall move onto the brave young man!" Venus called happily as she moved to the bowl next to the first. She plunged her arm into the bowl, pulling out a slip of paper. "Samuel James-," she spoke. The kid, whoever he was, didn't have time to move or respond.

"I volunteer!" Rocko screamed, ripping through the crowd as he made his way to the stage. Venus looked on in shock, realizing that they had _two_ volunteers in a district that normally had none. Rocko pushed through the peacemakers before jumping onto the stage, standing next to Venus on her other side. Venus still looked positively shocked, though she was grasping at straws to recover.

"And, what's your name, young man?" She asked as I studied Rocko. He looked fierce at this moment, glaring at her. His gaze then flickered to me and he grinned, which I returned. It was to be expected- his volunteering. After all, he had told me if I was going in, so was he.

"Rocko Bradley," he replied, to which Venus repeated for the district to hear. Everyone was shocked, but no one was particularly surprised. Everyone knew Rocko and I were the dynamic duo and that we would stick together no matter what.

"This must be the most positively exciting reaping in the history of District 5," Venus said cheerfully, moving to the next bowl- the one for the adult males. I glared at her before freezing as a possibility fluttered through my mind; one that I hadn't previously considered. What if my father was called? Who would then look after poor Mickey?

"And the adult male tribute for District 5 is… Brutus Steele!" Venus shouted. I released a shaky breath as my gaze flickered to my very own Physics teacher, walking through the parted crowd. His reaping was far less interesting but definitely more intimidating. Where Rocko and I had looked like children, freaking and rushing to volunteer, he looked the picture perfect of calm and reserved. That was, perhaps, the scariest and most intimidating factor. I swallowed a slight lump in my throat, pushing back my nervousness, as I watched him make his way to the stage.

I shook my head, wondering how I could possibly get through this. I realized I couldn't. In order for me to get hone to Mickey, these two would have to die. I'd either have to let them die, or kill them myself. That could never happen. Not when my best friend and favorite teacher were in the arena. No. I'd have to do everything in my power to help them try and come home. If anything, I think Mr. Steele had a good start.

At 6'4", he towered over the other citizens of District 5. His large, massive frame- perhaps even larger than Rocko- was intimidating. I shook my head, focusing on the fact that I knew him well enough to know he wasn't that bad or intimidating. I focused on our conversations we've had before as another intriguing thought popped into my head. _How did he keep that well in shape. Sure, he's only 35 but still_. Shaking the thought, I gave him a small smile and nod as he walked onto the stage. He gave me a sad smile as he moved to stand next to Rocko. Venus immediately started to clap for him before moving onto the final bowl.

"And finally, the adult female tribute for District 5 is… Cecilia Woodworth!" She called as a thin, fragile looking young woman made her way to the stage. She was probably in her early twenties, and I knew right off that she had no chance. I wasn't sure how much of a chance I had but I knew I had a far better chance than her. At least I trained and lived on the street. This, obviously, upper class young lady had no chance. She would probably be dead within the blood bath. "Your District 5 tributes for the 100th Hunger Games!" I heard Venus shout as all four of us stepped forward. Ignoring the fact that she would be dead within a week, I grabbed hers and Rocko's hands. The four of us stood, arms raised in the air, prepared for whatever lie ahead of us.

**A/N: Well, that's the finished part for the reaping scene. The next one I write will probably be the reaping scenes for individual tributes that really stand out and make for an interesting plot line. I need more Tributes! The list of taken slots are on my bio! Please send in tributes. Also, please take the time to review! Thank you!**

**May the odds be _ever _in your favor.**


	5. Final Goodbyes

The guards quickly moved forward, grabbing our arms and dragging us towards the doors of the Justice Building. At first I began to struggle, as did the others, but quickly gave in when the guard twisted my wrist. The twist wasn't enough to injure it, but enough so that a sharp pain shot through my wrist. Anger flashed across my face and I fought back a snarl as they pushed us into the building, dragging us down the long hallways. Without warning, a door was pulled open and the four of us were shoved into a room, the door slamming shut behind us.

Cecilia immediately sank to the floor, sobbing. I watched as Rocko sighed and began to pace, while Mr. Steele sat down on the only sofa in the room. Turning around, I pressed my ear to the door, desperate to hear something. At first I heard nothing but the occasional rustle of the Peacekeepers in front of the door. Then, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

"What did you hear?" Rocko asked as I quickly backed up. I shook my head and kept my focus on the door as the handle turned and the door popped open. Several Peacekeepers entered the room, pushing people in. I recognized the five straight off as Mickey, Ivan, Eliza, my father, and Mrs. Pullberry.

Rocko came over to stand next to me, just as Mickey darted forwards and threw himself into my arms. I held him tightly, knowing that our moment would be cut short. He was sobbing as I tried to comfort him, and as Rocko rubbed his back sympathetically.

"Y-you can't g-go Zira! I n-need you!" Mickey sobbed into my shoulder, his face hidden. I shifted his weight slightly, well aware that he was no longer the little boy I had practically raised.

"You'll be fine, Mick. You're old enough now," I told him as he pulled back to reveal his red face. I set him down as he sniffled, patting his head. "You've grown so much, Mick," I told him as I knelt down. "Your father will take care of you. I'm positive of it," I told Mick as I turned to glare at my father.

He hung back, looking out of place. He looked as if he didn't belong there, and to me he didn't. He hung his head slightly, looking guilty at the horror he had wrecked on his family. It was too late for him to fix things with me, but maybe he could with Mickey. I stood up then, releasing my hold on Mickey, and turned on my father.

"You do right by him. You fix things with him that you never could with me," I told him. He nodded silently, somber for once, and sober. He wasn't drunk for once, which told me he was serious. "I mean it. You step up and act like a father. And you lay off the drink," I ordered. He nodded once more and in that instant, I knew Mickey would be able to survive and get through. With that, I watched in silence as he pulled a screaming and crying Mickey from the room. The door shut behind them for what very well may be the last time I ever see them.

"Oh, Zira!" I hear as Eliza flings herself at me, tears dropping from her eyes. I was shocked for a moment at seeing this hardened orphan crying. Then, she slapped me, causing my head to snap sideways. "That's for being such a stupid, stupid friend!" I turned to look at her to see she was grateful, as she released me and let Ivan embrace me.

"Thank you for saving her," Ivan whispered in my ear and I nodded. "Try to come home." I nodded as he stepped back, and I watched them silently.

"You guys are two of the greatest friends I could ask for. Thank you," I told them. They nodded and stepped back as Mrs. Pullberry stepped forward. She gave me a quick hug, words leaving her, as the Peacekeepers stepped into the room. She stepped back, sobbing, as they were pulled from the room, the door slamming behind them.

I felt a tug of pain within me at the thought that my last goodbye was short, and almost pointless. I turned to see Rocko staring at the closed door as he pulled me into a hug, which I welcomed. I could see that his eyes were tearing, and so I pulled him close, squeezing him. "We'll make it," I whisper. "You and I." He simply shakes his head, knowing only one can win.

I release Rocko and step back, sitting down on the sofa next to Mr. Steele. I felt Rocko sit down next to me, his breathing shaky. "That was the last time we'll ever see them," he muttered. I shook my head as the door opened again. A couple in their fifties entered the room and quickly embraced the still sobbing Cecilia. I could only assume this was her all too perfect family.

"I'm sorry it was so short," I heard come from my right. I turned to look at Mr. Steele and I shrugged, smiling slightly.

"Yeah. They'll be alright though. I just know it. I will say this: one of the three of us must come home." They both nodded before looking away. I turned to stare at the door. I watched as it opened once more and Peacekeepers entered, dragging away Cecilia's parents. Others soon entered to replace them, and soon we were being yanked off the sofa and pulled from the room against our will. We tried to resist, but they continued to drag us to the train, the doors opening to admit us. It was almost as if the gates of hell were opened ahead of me, and I didn't want to go. Struggling, I soon found, was futile, and we were pulled onto the train against our will.

**A/N: so, this chapter is really short and rushed. It's no where near the best chapter I've written. Honestly, it's probably the worst and I'll most likely re write it. However, I needed to update. I still need more tributes so please go to my bio and PM me the form for your own tributes. I appreciate all the tributes submitted this far but I'm really hoping that I may get a few new submissions at this point. On my bio is the list of slots already taken, and the form to fill. Please submit! Thank you!**


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